


Intoxication

by Dreamfang, In_a_Quandary



Series: Deterioration of the Psyche [1]
Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, Drug Addiction, Drug-Induced OoCness, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Sexual Content, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-08-02 09:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16302869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamfang/pseuds/Dreamfang, https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_a_Quandary/pseuds/In_a_Quandary
Summary: 9S is enthralled by this different side to 2B. One that is far less uptight, even bordering on friendly. But even as he revels in her newfound warmth, his instincts tell him that something is amiss. Perhaps this is a matter of him not wanting to know. Perhaps the truth is just too unpleasant to bear: that 2B has fallen into a destructive spiral of self-medication and drug dependency.





	1. Prologue - Symptoms

**Author's Note:**

> Rating is subject to change.
> 
> This story will explore the sensitive subject of drug use and addiction, as outlined by the tags. May be a trigger for some. Please decide what's best for yourself before reading.
> 
>  **In_a_Quandary** : I'd like to mention that this is a side story to _Unvirtuous Treaty_ , as it takes place within the same historical timeline. The 9S that we encounter here is the same one who will feature in Part VIII of 2B's backstory.
> 
>  **Dreamfang** : This story was inspired by a short sequence in a video. From it, stemmed the idea 'the decay of a relationship.' I toyed with the concept for a while, as well as conversing with In a Quandary. We both enjoyed the premise enough to co-write together, petrified proses and story foundations. Now, we present this story for you, the readers, to enjoy.

xxx

**1. _Prologue – Symptom_**

xxx

There's something _off_ about 2B nowadays.

No, 9S isn’t referring to tiny subtleties that would escape all but a scanner’s keen eye. What he has observed of 2B’s behaviour still lies within the expected scope, if only just. However, it’s as though her personality data has been tampered with ever so slightly, creating an overall impression that... _isn’t quite right_.

Starting with her combat style. The 2B he knows is a deadly and efficient fighter. Her strikes are often precise, aimed at weak points – like joints – to incapacitate larger enemies, or someplace vital, bringing the battle to a swift end. Also, she seems to possess a supernatural awareness of the environment, and is constantly adapting to it. That’s why she can move about with such awe-inspiring grace, flowing from one machine adversary to another as she reduces them all to scrap metal.

In the past few weeks however, 2B has relinquished some of the aforementioned grace. Sometimes she isn’t quite in sync with the battle, as if her focus is elsewhere – like on her own movements. This is evidenced by her switchover from precision to brute force. 9S sees Virtuous Contract in both hands rather than _one_ – her usual grip before the onset of these aberrations – which amplifies her strength enough to carve through armour. (After all, a machine is no more dangerous as a mangled chassis as it is a pile of dismembered parts.) And yet, despite being the better tool for this... _less elegant_ butchering job, her greatsword hasn’t seen much use lately.

Maybe 2B has become so comfortable around 9S as to lessen her perfectionistic tendencies? Or maybe she places enough trust in him to pick up the slack, clean up what she hasn’t managed to lay to waste?

By default, 9S is a non-combat model, and his frailer specs indicate as much. However, his unparalleled hacking skills, combined with the fact that all machines are hackable, make him an invaluable asset on the field. (That's in his not-so-humble opinion, anyway.) No one can crowd control better than _he_ does, what with his ability to detonate foes and subjugate multiple others at the same time.

Could it be that 2B has finally recognised his usefulness? Perhaps she’s now giving him the room to showcase himself, prove how good of a partner he is to her?

(9S sincerely wishes that this is the case.)

On the whole, the difference in 2B’s combat style have not compromised their performance. It represents the least drastic of the changes he’s observed so far, and 9S spends less time contemplating this than the others.

One such is the recent frequency of 2B’s smile. (Not that 9S is in _any_ way opposed to her smiling more often, mind you.) Battlers aren’t very cheerful to begin with, and unfortunately for 9S, his partner takes cheer _less_ ness to the extreme. ‘Aloof’ appears to be her default mood, though it would sometimes venture into ‘fussy’ or ‘irritable’, depending on how much he’d managed to vex her with his latest (mis)deed. Any departure from this prickliness comes as a relief, and her smile is an especially wondrous treat.

It’s after the fighting, when they’re patrolling or moving between objectives, that he glimpses that elusive curl of her lips. Curious as to what had inspired it – in the hopes that he can replicate the circumstances – 9S would point it out to her. Most of the time, her face would reclaim its neutral expression, and she’d try to play off the incident as though it hadn’t happened. On other occasions, she would respond with an uncharacteristically loose tongue, even going as far as to describe her current emotional state. Like how she feels different. _Relaxed_.

(Said loose tongue has given him much to be grateful for, as it would also let slip the beloved nickname 'Nines'.)

Perplexing though her improved mood may be, that which has caught 9S off guard is 2B’s sudden ease with physical proximity and affection. These days, she doesn’t tend to stray very far from him, even on casual strolls. Her usual position is in the vanguard several paces ahead of him. So it’s surprising whenever she slows down enough to let him to walk by her side. Equally notable is the fact that she would intercept anything that so much as stumbles in his direction, as though adamant in ensuring no harm befalls him.

(The protectiveness is a little stifling, but he relishes it all the same. Because it shows that she _cares_ for him.)

2B has also become very comfortable with sitting close, allowing their knees to bump together and his arm to press flush against hers. Normally, it is 9S – in his desire for closeness – who would take the initiative and shuffle towards her. But 2B has started to mirror him as of late. Or she’d bypass dawdling altogether and plop herself right next to him. Her body heat would seep through the layers of their clothing and into him, suffusing his entire being with the same mellow warmth.

(This feeling, as 9S later discovers, is known as _contentment_.)

Still, the pleasant experience of sitting side-by-side pales to the first time 2B had patted him.

Back then, they were poring over some Resistance intel, and 9S had just unravelled a tricky bit of encryption that stumped him for the past ten minutes. Triumphant, he’d turned towards his partner with a whoop and shit-eating grin. But instead of shaking her head at 9S’s antics – as he’d expected her to do – 2B had reached over to give him a congratulatory head pat.

Receiving any kind of acknowledgment from 2B was unusual enough, let alone what amounted to a silent compliment. Moreover, there was nothing accidental about the way she’d touched him: her fingers combing through his hair, stroking his scalp. The contact had shocked 9S into stillness. He could feel the fizzle of overloaded circuitry, and his black box had drummed a hot, frantic beat against his ribcage. By the time he’d recovered his wits enough to relax into her caress, 2B had already pulled away.

But 9S didn’t lack for opportunity to revisit the sensation, for 2B continued with the head pats. Nor had she restrained herself to that sole display of affection, either. After battle, it wasn’t uncommon for her to hold his wrist as she checked him for injury. Yet her hand would linger for longer than necessary, and her thumb would press gentle circles into the pressure point there, sending frissons up his arm.

On a handful of occasions, where they were overlooking an area atop a vantage point, 2B had shown atypical boldness by curling her arm around his shoulders. 9S hadn’t questioned the embrace, though. He was too immersed in the feeling that he belonged there – _that he belongs to her_.

Notably, there’s that _one_ fishing trip, which 9S cannot forget even if he tries. Funnily enough, it had nothing to do with fishing at all. Having claimed her now-customary seat beside him, 2B had proceeded to disrupt the otherwise peaceful scene by placing her hand on his thigh. Her fingers had fiddled with the hem of his shorts before tracing lines of fire across his exposed skin. This spurred his vital parameters towards alarming heights, and he couldn’t do anything to contain the burgeoning pressure between his legs.

(He's sure 2B had caught the mortified flush across his cheeks.)

Worse yet were the _urges_ that flared up inside him. If only he could reciprocate her gesture, take the same liberties with her person. But he didn’t – still _doesn’t_ – dare. YoRHa’s stupid ban on emotions notwithstanding, 9S has yet to reconcile the icy 2B with this sudden... _flirtatiousness_ , however much he welcomes the latter.

Wherever on his body it originates, the burst of electricity that he feels upon their contact is no less pleasurable each time it happens. For a war-torn veteran, 2B’s touch is so gentle. Though she never lingers for as long as he’d prefer, there seems to be an air of reluctance about her as she withdraws.

(Does she long for his closeness as much as he longs for hers?)

As a scanner programmed with high emotional awareness, 9S is well acquainted with the workings of his heart. Being around 2B evokes feelings like nothing he’d ever experienced. What he harbours for her is more than respect or fondness or attraction – it’s as though she’s the centre of his universe. He would do _anything_ for her.

If she could return but a fraction of his feelings, he’d be over the figurative moon.

So it is with precarious hope that 9S reviews his interactions with 2B, relives her affectionate gestures. She is not one given to words; perhaps that’s why she’s choosing to express herself this way? In any case, her newfound physicality isn’t something he can complain about. Not for the enjoyment it gives him, much less the fact that it hints towards something more – that which 9S desires above all else.

Despite that, 9S has definite reason to question these behavioural changes, which span only part of the entire gamut. (And that’s not only his inner skeptic talking.) Unknown origins aside, they are accompanied by bouts of unpredictable and extreme mood swings. 2B would be agreeable one moment, and in the next, 9S would find himself burnt by the sudden reversion to her old persona – or a harsher variant, at that.

Said reversions would take place every so often, and are more prevalent in longer missions. 2B’s posture becomes uncomfortably rigid, and she refuses to speak unless necessary. When she does – after much prompting – it is with such waspishness that it discourages any further conversation. Not to mention she exhibits even greater violence towards their machine adversaries, as though venting her android equivalent of a spleen on them.

(9S doesn’t envy them, though he’s glad for their presence. Between the two, _he_ would rather not be reduced to scrap metal.)

When it first happened, 9S assumed that he’d made an inadvertent misstep, perhaps by crossing a line or triggering an unpleasant memory. Surely it was a once-off? However, the mood swings continued. So he’d tried different responses (save the ones that would exacerbate her ire; he doesn’t have a death wish). Even with careful experimentation, he hasn’t managed to establish a link – causal or correlative – between his behaviour and her emotional whiplash.

Which brings 9S to the conclusion that something is _wrong_ about all of this.

Yes, he wants nothing more than to believe that their recent closeness is genuine, a product of their deepening relationship. But in all honesty, he’d felt a sense of unease since the onset of these changes. Has he been blinded by his own desires all along? Is he purposefully casting aside all the odd things he’d noticed, identified as problematic? Is he deliberately playing ignorant to the truth?

9S decides that he’s entertained this fantasy for long enough. For all he knows, 2B’s friendliness may be an illusion, her capitulating to his relentless pursuit of intimacy. It is highly uncharacteristic of her, after all. But by presenting these two disparate personas, one hot and one cold, she appears to be functional, if not quite normal.

Even it jeopardises their relationship – even if costs him his feelings by destroying any hope for them to be together – 9S must find out what’s really going on. Namely, what is causing 2B to act like this. She is his partner, first and foremost. Her well-being is of paramount importance to him, and he will do whatever it takes to support her.

She’ll have to be okay. He’ll make sure of it.

Thus his investigation begins.


	2. Examination

xxx

**2. _Examination_**

xxx

On the cot before him, 2B lies motionless.

This isn’t an unfamiliar sight to 9S, who’s been assigned to handle her ongoing maintenance. Though he lacks the proficiency of healers or 801S’s specialised skillset, 9S does a decent enough job. (Or he likes to _think_ that he does.) Normally, it’s a therapeutic task, running various system tests and checks to ensure everything is in working order.

This time, 9S is anything but relaxed. At least five minutes have passed since he’s set 2B to reboot in safe mode, and half the time he’s been pacing. If 2B’s mood swings have indeed arisen from an internal error, there would be some form of evidence. Perhaps it’s a bit duplicitous of him, but he cannot pass up the opportunity to search for said evidence now that 2B’s systems are up for his inspection.

At present, he’s testing a check designed to ensure that YoRHa androids feel emotions appropriate to their situation. What he cannot understand is why 2B’s system keeps ignoring it, leaving her in that strange, over-friendly mood that he experiences so often nowadays. To pinpoint the root cause, he would need to eliminate all potential issues, starting with her core functions.

“Pod,” 9S turns to his tactical support unit, who is hovering over 2B’s head, “how much longer until the boot sequence is complete?”

“An estimated thirty seconds remain,” replies Pod 153 in its feminine monotone.

Sighing, 9S slows his pacing down to a stop and looks out at the Resistance outpost in which they are currently stationed. Situated in the middle of a drylands plain, it is a far cry from the Bunker’s sleek utilitarianism, comprising of modern machinery, wooden furniture and storage containers jumbled in with tents and lean-tos. A wire fence surrounds the perimeter, branching inwards to form partitions for rooms, and a radio tower lies in the nearby distance. 

Though the place is somewhat messy – if ready to be packed up and carried away at a moment’s notice – it has an relaxed, inviting feel to it. At the Bunker, there is always a pervasive sense of detachment, as though one does not belong within the sterile, monochromatic walls. Yet the Resistance members certainly seem to be at home here. 9S often sees them lounging amidst the clutter, sharing meals and drinks and animated conversation with each other. It’s a livelier community than YoRHa will ever be.

“Report: Safe reboot successful and operational.”

Pod 153’s statement interrupts his musings. Of course 9S has let himself get distracted again; waiting around patiently is not his forte. Regardless, hearing those words reassures him. At least it’s unlikely that viral interference plays a part here.

“Pod, establish a link with 2B,” 9S orders, pulling up a holoscreen as he reclaims his place by 2B’s side. “It’ll be quicker if you run commands on my request.”

In maintenance mode, 2B gives the impression of complete ease. There's only one word 9S would use to describe her like this: _innocent_. It’s ironic for someone capable of single-handedly dispatching whole legions of enemy machines, but he knows there’s a side of her that wears the descriptor well.

“This unit is now synchronised with YoRHa unit 2B,” Pod 153 states. “Analysis: Communication function disabled. All system functions nominal.”

While undergoing maintenance, an android is in a very restricted state, whereby they are entirely reliant on their caretaker. To forestall the unpleasant feeling of vulnerability for the recipient, 9S always tries to make the sessions quick without sacrificing quality. Now with safe mode active, only 2B’s basic systems and environmental sensors remain operating. This means she is unable to communicate – not even through text – which makes it all the more imperative that 9S pays close attention to her few, limited responses.

“Here goes,” 9S mutters, drawing a deep breath to calm himself. There’s no need to work himself up further; 2B is depending on him to do this properly. “Disable all states within and below maintenance.”

Pod 153 obeys, making the requested changes. “States relating to variables below one are no longer accepted.” 

After inputting a few commands, 9S opens up a real-time data feed on 2B’s emotional state. Normally, this data – which can be quite nuanced – presents itself in numerical format, but he’s set it up to be converted into its single-word equivalent for quick and easy interpretation. At present, 2B’s mood is displaying as ‘apprehensive’. 

“I’m starting the tests,” 9S declares, giving her arm a gentle pat. “Just letting you know, there’s something that’s come up, and in order to work out if it’s a problem, I’m gonna conduct a little experiment. Like inducing an artificial combat state. Is that okay with you, 2B?”

2B’s apprehension persists for a few seconds, then takes on a curious twist: _an unspoken question_. Not surprising, given that what he’s proposing takes quite a departure from normal maintenance procedures. 2B deserves an explanation, at the very least. Not that 9S plans to divulge the crucial details, like how he’s testing to see if the combat state – which comes with its own subset of pre-programmed emotions – has any impact on her so-called ‘abnormal mood’.

“It uh, involves waving a sword in your direction. Just enough to engage combat mode. I won’t be doing anything to harm you, I promise! Not that we YoRHa units can intentionally attack each other, anyway...”

Rather than reassure her, his words trigger a rise in 2B’s anxiety levels, and her mood now shows as ‘fearful’. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea? The last thing he wants is to give her unnecessary cause for distress.

“If you’d rather not do it, I understand,” 9S says, though not without reluctance. “I won’t go ahead without your consent, 2B.”

There is a moment of hesitation, then 2B’s mood shifts to resolve and finally certainty.

“Are you sure?”

More certainty.

“Okay then. Thanks for trusting me on this, 2B. But I’ll set up a simple alert program, just in case.” As he says this, 9S enters a string of commands to integrate a loop check. “It expects you to answer ‘yes’ every two seconds. If at any point you feel really uncomfortable, just answer ‘no’. This will come up as a flag, and I’ll stop things immediately.”

To this, 2B responds with confidence, as though trying to convey that she approves of his idea. 9S gives an internal sigh of relief. Now that the precautionary measures are in place and 2B has given him the green light, they can actually begin.

Glancing over his surroundings to check that there are no snooping passerbys, 9S removes Cruel Oath from digital storage and wraps his hand around the hilt. The act of materialising – or dematerialising – a weapon produces a telltale _zing_ sound, so he’s sure 2B is now aware that he’s drawn his sword. However, her mood remains unchanged. That is a promising sign.

“Pod 153, monitor the change in emotional state.”

“Current values recorded. Pending future values.” 

In preparation for his feint, 9S traces an imaginary arc above 2B. Though he has no intention of landing the hit on her, he’ll need to swing close enough so that her environmental sensors pick up and identify a physical threat.

Then he takes a step back, inhales, and executes the swing. The blade whistles with exaggerated loudness as it cuts through the air, halting scant centimetres away from 2B’s unprotected neck. (Or perhaps the loudness is just his imagination, his auditory processors blowing things out of proportion in his fear that he’d hurt 2B by accident.)

“Analysis,” chimes in Pod 153, “state change within acceptable parameters. Current state: combat.”

It would seem the experiment is a success. Since there is no longer a need for Cruel Oath, 9S dematerialises the sword.

As he goes over the results, 9S becomes more and more certain of a number of things, though the underlying answer still remains out of reach. One, 2B’s abnormal mood persists even after introducing the combat state, and two, it shows a remarkable similarity with the well-documented ‘combat high’. So similar, in fact, that there appears to be no transition at all.

But never mind that for now. As his attention shifts onto 2B herself, 9S cannot help but notice that her physical response has manifested as well. Tension thrums across her entire body, showing most prominently in her arms. It’s obvious that her systems are trying to override the paralysis of maintenance, though to no avail.

“2B, it’s okay,” 9S soothes, automatically reaching towards her before stopping himself at the last moment. His mind is a veritable haze of conflict. On one hand, he wants to gather her into his arms, give her something tangible and _less impersonal_ than the fighting instincts coursing through her circuits. On the other, he doesn’t dare overstep boundaries, and embracing her – an unquestionable display of affection – would be going too far.

In the end, he decides to grasp her shoulder and squeeze her hand. A paltry attempt at comfort, but better than nothing.

“It’s over, 2B,” he continues with a placating voice. “I’ve done what I needed to do. You’re safe now; I’ve put away my sword. I’ll never hurt you, 2B. _Never_.” His words become more vehement towards the end.

For a second or so, 2B stays stiff under his hold. Then, like a drawn-out exhalation, the tension drains from her body. Her mood changes to ‘relieved’.

It leaves 9S feeling guilty.

Even though 2B had given her consent, there’s something inherently _wrong_ about what had just taken place. It doesn’t matter what 9S’s intentions are, or that he’s instigated this experiment out of concern for her wellbeing. The fact remains that he’s taken advantage of 2B’s trust to coax her into something she does not fully understand, and his actions have caused her no small amount of discomfort. Not to mention he’ll be taking another step down the slippery slope by concealing the truth from her.

9S grits his teeth, and his fingers dig into the fabric of 2B’s sleeve. _This is for her own good_ , he tells himself.

“I’m sorry for scaring you like that,” he says, and there is nothing ungenuine about his apology. “I should’ve—I wasn’t sure if the results would be the same if I tried something else.” Sucking in a breath, he deliberately affects a neutral voice, lest 2B catch him on his upcoming lie. “But there doesn’t seem to be any problems. The thing I was looking at before is probably just a glitch from extended runtime. Everything looks good.”

Deed done, 9S withdraws from her, keying in a few more commands to download the results into his own memory banks and finalise the process.

“I’ll be starting your normal reboot sequence. See you in a bit, 2B.”

  


* * *

  


“This looks like the last one.” 

With a flourish, 9S enters the final keystroke, which completes the preliminary scan of his and 2B’s environment. He then projects the data onto a nearby holographic screen, which depicts their current whereabouts on a blueprint map. 

To say that their mission is long and arduous is an understatement. 9S had never before conducted recon in a production factory so complex as this. What with the haphazard layout and interconnected processes, it has been difficult to track down exactly where he and 2B need to be. More often that not, what takes place in one room is monitored by another. Case in point: the control room they are currently in oversees the main manufacturing plant several buildings away.

“2B?”

“Hmm?” The recipient of 9S’s attention halts mid-patrol, turning towards him. 

Given the abundance – and violent tendencies – of their machine foes, 9S isn’t surprised that 2B would automatically assume guard duty while he conducts his hacking. This setup is more efficient, even though he doesn’t require 2B’s protection per se (his adopted combat functions make him quite capable of defending himself). If there’s one thing he can be certain about, it’s that they both want to get this over and done with.

“Are you sure you’re okay to continue?” 9S inquires, worry creeping into his voice. “I-I mean, we’ve been going from one place to another without stopping this whole time.”

“I am in acceptable fighting condition,” 2B answers, her expression neutral. “You just need to finish one more hack, correct?”

“Yeah. Gotta shut down the core. That’ll trip the security system, so we’ll be swimming in machines.” 9S pauses, contemplating his next words. YoRHa may forbid emotions, but surely it can’t be wrong for him to express concern for a fellow soldier? “I don’t want you to get hurt, 2B.”

There are a few seconds of silence, and what little he can see of 2B’s face – that isn’t obscured by her visor – is thoughtful. “You care a lot about me,” she remarks.

“Of course I _do_ ,” 9S returns emphatically. “You’re my partner.”

The clicks of her stilettos echo through the chamber as 2B approaches him, closing the distance between them until they stand only a metre apart. “There’s no need for concern, Nines. See?”

To prove her point, 2B spreads out her arms and spins around in a slow circle. While no longer immaculate from all the fighting they’ve done, her uniform is still intact from head to toe, and her movement is fluid, indicating no internal damage.

“Okaaaaay, I get it,” 9S concedes, throwing up his hands. “You’re fine.”

2B lets her arms fall back to her sides. “Indeed. Worrying over me is unproductive. Besides, it’s my task to fight.”

“I know, I know. But—”

His words catch in his vocal processor as 2B’s hand alights on his cheek. Her touch is impossibly gentle, and warmth seeps through the thin fabric of her gloves. With a soft sigh, 9S leans into her caress. However frequently 2B’s displays of affection might manifest these days, he will never cease to revel in them.

“I’ve managed to keep you from harm so far,” 2B assures him, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “There can’t be that many machines left. I’ll be able to take care of them, trust me.”

“I trust you,” 9S affirms, even though he’s not quite convinced. While 2B might be the best fighter he knows, she’s not infallible. “It’s just... I can’t help but worry about you.”

In response, 2B brushes aside his fringe and bends down towards him. The instant her lips make contact with his forehead, 9S’s mind ceases all logical function. All of his concerns – including awareness of the world around him – vanish like a puff of smoke. It would seem that the entirety of his substantial processing power has been hijacked and diverted towards two thoughts. One, 2B had kissed him. And two, she’d done so in the middle of a mission, not before nor after.

“I appreciate it,” 2B whispers as she straightens and pulls away.

“Y-Yeah, of c-course,” 9S stutters in reply, struggling to collect his muddled wits. His logic circuits feel like they’ve been through a blender. “I won’t be long.”

Turning her back to him, 2B proceeds towards the next room. Her hand curls into a fist as she disappears through the exit.

Her departure causes a strange ache to fill 9S’s black box cavity. Whether it stems from worry, fear or loss, he cannot tell. Even the knowledge that she is waiting just around the corner, dual katanas drawn in preparation for her foes, does nothing to set him at ease.

Shaking his head as if that would cast aside the feeling, 9S raises his hand and presses it against the nearest control interface. The golden glow of hacking surrounds him, and he concentrates all his attention on his task. The sooner he gets it done, the sooner he can reunite with 2B and take a much-needed breather.

Despite his intense focus, the hacking process takes no fewer than five minutes, not including a quick scan for rebooting failsafes. Over the course of said five minutes, the noises from next door become louder and more frequent. Violence reverberates from every metallic clash and distorted shriek, and it drives 9S’s anxiety up to unbearable levels. 

This is exactly what he fears: that 2B would get too _involved_ in the fighting. While bloodshed is a requirement in their line of work – they _are_ soldiers, after all – it’s known to corrode one’s psyche, and there’s too much of it in a place like this.

With a final clang, the sounds fade into silence.

“2B?” 9S calls out. 

No response. 

In his experience, no fight ends so abruptly. Even after modulating his auditory sensors to maximum sensitivity, 9S is unable to hear anything from the next room. Something is definitely amiss over there. 

His task complete, 9S withdraws from the hacking space as quickly as possible. He then breaks out into a sprint, hurtling into the next room in a matter of seconds. 

A quick glance around reveals a gruesome, if predictable scene. The floor is littered with mangled machine corpses, many of which are still oozing oil and lubricant into surrounding puddles. Dismembered limbs and various less identifiable parts are strewn about everywhere, and some have been thrown around with enough force as to become embedded into the walls. At the centre of it all stands 2B, the lone survivor to this carnage.

Despite the noise 9S had made upon entry, she doesn’t seem to have registered his presence yet. Her back is still facing him, and her gaze is trained on the opposite wall. From what he can see of her, she appears to be uninjured – thank the nonexistent gods – albeit exhausted. The larger of her two katanas is lodged into the ground, and she has braced herself against it, hands knotted around the pommel. Each laboured breath causes her chest to rise and fall noticeably.

“2B, are you alright?” 

His cry of concern makes her flinch, and she staggers – for a brief, but poignant second – before regaining her balance. As she straightens and turns towards him, her greatsword disappears and rematerialises in its electromagnetic sheath behind her. 9S notes that the front of her uniform is liberally splattered with machine ichor. While the black colour might hide a multitude of sins, it cannot disguise the telltale oily sheen.

“I heard all that noise, and I figured some serious shit went down in here,” he continues in a worried tone, unable to contain the expletive. “You’re not hurt, are you? Please tell me you’re okay.”

2B ignores his pleas for reassurance as though she hadn’t heard them. “Have you finished your hack?” Her words, spoken through clenched teeth as they were, come out in an icy hiss.

_Not this again…_

Giving an internal sigh, 9S readies himself to deal with 2B’s less personable side once more. It would seem that her mood reversion had taken place in the few minutes that he and she were separated. What had she experienced during this timeframe that brought out such anger and brutality?

He elects to go with a straightforward answer, lest he provoke her further. “Yeah. They can’t restart production anymore.” 

Seemingly satisfied with this, 2B heads towards the other exit without so much as a glance in 9S’s direction. When he falls into line behind her, she quickens her pace, as though eager to put distance between them. 9S matches said pace regardless, his shorter legs working double-time to keep up.

They proceed in this fashion for a minute or so, passing by conveyor belts and various factory paraphernalia. All the while, 9S’s mind is buzzing with questions. His curiosity gets the better of him in the end, prompting him to break the increasingly awkward silence.

“What happened back there? Were there too many machines? Did you get overwhelmed?” 

2B doesn’t respond. In fact, she gives the distinct impression that she isn’t mentally present. Maybe he ought to check that she is at least aware of their surroundings? Hurrying over to her in several quick strides, 9S reaches for her shoulder. “Hey 2B, are you—”

As soon as he makes contact, 2B seizes his wrist and twists them both around so that they are facing each other. The razor-sharp tip of Virtuous Contract points at his black box a heartbeat later. 2B’s expression is _feral_ : feet braced apart like a sprung coil, chin thrust forward, lips peeled back in a snarl. 

9S’s eyes grow wide under his visor. His pre-programmed instincts are crying out at him to move away, out of harm’s way. But for some reason his body has frozen still, refusing to obey his commands. 

This represents the first time 2B has drawn her sword on him. While 9S has been on the receiving end of her acerbic remarks and general disgruntlement, this level of aggression is _something else_.

“2B,” his voice emerges in a fearful squeak, “you don’t actually wanna kill me, do you?” Regaining motor function is still a struggle, but he has wrested back enough control as to raise his palms in surrender. 

2B inhales sharply in response, and something like horrified realisation comes over her face. Virtuous Contract vanishes from her hand, and her mouth opens as if to say something. However, she shuts it a moment later, shaking her head instead. 

“I—I apologise, 9S. That was an overreaction,” she mutters, averting her gaze. 

“You got that right,” 9S sighs, glad to be out of imminent danger. His black box continues to thump a rapid staccato beat against his ribcage. “You really scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to.” 2B still isn’t looking at him. Her body language – huddled shoulders and fidgeting hands – reeks of guilt.

Concluding that his partner no longer poses a threat to him, 9S lowers his hands. “What’s with all this weird… aggression, anyway?”

It takes 2B several seconds to formulate a reply. “Perhaps my circuits have been scrambled. There was an EMP attack earlier.”

9S draws a few deep breaths in an effort to calm his racing systems. An EMP attack seems like a convenient excuse, especially in a factory that produces mostly regular enemies. Still, he would take 2B at her word, and go through the standard procedure for resolving the issue. 

“I, uh, could do a quick scan. Fix any problems in case another attack happens.”

“No need.” 2B looks down, fingering a prominent oil stain on her skirt. It’s like she hasn’t noticed it until now. “The effects will wear off on their own.”

“Are you sure, 2B? It seems to be safe here.”

“It’ll be better to wait until we’ve returned to the Resistance camp,” 2B argues, this time with more of her characteristic stoicism. “We’re finished here.”

Before he can make any further comment, 2B turns away and resumes their walk, slipping back into her position at the vanguard. 9S follows obediently, though he cannot help but maintain a wider gap than usual between them. Physical proximity is the last thing he wants at the moment.

Try as he might, 9S cannot shake off the thought. 2B had almost _attacked_ him. Yet he is unable to come up with any cause that would prompt such a drastic action. Not counting, of course, whatever internal error is causing this (mis)behaviour. Having reached the point of her nearly inflicting bodily harm upon him, it’s now too dangerous to wait and hope that the problem would resolve itself.

“Please be nothing major,” he whispers under his breath.


	3. Assessment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to split this chapter because it was getting so long. A rather more action-packed one, it is. Also, I make no apologies for the upcoming indestructible plot device.

xxx

**3. _Assessment_**

xxx

It is a bit of stray Pod fire that has put them into this predicament.

Really, 9S should’ve paid more attention to their surroundings and identified _all_ potential hostiles, as any good scanner would do. Perhaps the simplicity of _this_ mission – unlike the gruelling twenty-hour marathon in the manufacturing plant five days prior – has made him overconfident. It involves nothing more than clearing out the machine colony around the nearby radio tower, after all. Caught up in disassembling wave after wave of stubbies, 9S hadn’t stopped to consider the threat posed by nearby organic lifeforms.

That’s right: _organic_ lifeforms. Enemies 9S cannot hack, therefore his weakness.

Too late now. 9S watches with dawning horror as the bullets scatter wide, catching the wandering white boar on its left flank. They do nothing more than glance off its thick hide, but this is somehow enough to incite its temper. The size of a small bus, the boar makes quite an intimidating sight simply in itself. Piggy eyes swivel towards Pod 153, before refocusing on the larger and more obvious target: _him_. Then ‘intimidating’ becomes full-blown ‘terrifying’ as it rockets forward in his direction, emitting a deafening battle squeal.

In the face of its thunderous approach, 9S finds himself transfixed. His limbs are refusing to move, however hard his flights instincts may urge them on. For the white haze of panic has engulfed him, leaving him unable to do anything more than anticipate the moment of impact. A few seconds from now, he would be bowled over and crushed underfoot, his android body trampled into plastic and metal scrap—

A flash of familiar black interrupts his wild imaginings. Protective as ever, 2B rushes into the boar’s path, interposing herself between 9S and his would-be attacker. Gripped tight in her hand is Virtuous Contract, a silver gleam in the sunlight. Poising the katana in an aggressive stance, she lunges forward, aiming for the obvious weak spot of the boar’s eyes—

But her strike misses. Impossibly fast, the boar ducks as she swings, causing her blade to etch a line of red across its crown instead. Then, with a powerful swipe of its muscled snout, it tosses aside all hundred-and-fifty kilos of her like a rag-doll. There is a loud crash as she slams into a nearby cliff, the collision forceful enough to dump a shower of rocky debris upon her.

“2B!” 9S screams. 

Watching 2B take the blow meant for him prompts his motor functions to reengage. He barely throws himself out of the way of the boar’s still-relentless charge, avoiding his anticipated fate. Its momentum carries it several metres forward, trotters ploughing into the grassy dirt as it slows down to a halt. 

9S doesn’t stop to think. Rolling to his feet, he unslings Cruel Oath. With the aid of electromagnetic telekinesis – since he lacks the actual strength to perform such an action – 9S hurls the katana blade-first at the boar. However, his attack proves almost as ineffective as Pod 153’s bullets, scoring a faint, pink indent in its hide before bouncing off. 

He feels his jaw unhinge in utter disbelief. That was a direct hit, and it hadn’t even managed to draw blood. What is this boar made out of, _adamantite_?

Though unsuccessful, 9S’s attack enrages the white boar further. With a quickness that confounds him yet again, the beast spins its gargantuan body around. Then it lets out another ear-splitting squeal, and comes hurtling back towards him.

Acknowledging their owners’ distress, Pods 153 and 042 take the initiative to swoop in, opening fire on their oversized foe. Although their bullets cannot penetrate its hide, this creates a much needed diversion. The boar selects Pod 153 – who has flown into its line of sight – as its new target, changing path several times in an attempt to catch the agile red-black bot. Then a salvo from Pod 042 hits its rump, causing it to dig its hooves into the earth and whirl around in confusion. 

9S doesn’t stay put long enough to watch. Giving the Pods a mental thanks, he breaks out in a sprint towards his fallen partner.

2B’s disorientation is clear as she surfaces from the rocky pile under which she was buried, rising shakily to her feet. Within the space of a few heartbeats, 9S reaches her side, and curls gentle hands around her forearms. (Were it not for the risk that he’d aggravate the injuries she had likely sustained to her torso, he would’ve clutched her shoulders instead.)

“2B, are you alright?”

Her response is a brisk nod. Then she raises her unoccupied hand in a silent bid for him to release her. (The other had miraculously maintained its hold on Virtuous Contract all this while.) He lets go, and 2B staggers forward. The small sword flourish she makes indicates that her right arm is still in working order, but 9S cannot overlook the limp to her left leg. It’s far too pronounced for his liking.

Alas, 2B’s core programming dictates that she fight to the bitter end. Swallowing down his concern, 9S follows her gaze back to the boar.

It would seem that the Pods have exhausted their distraction value. At this point, the boar has realised that their bullets amount to no more than a nuisance, not to mention that their ability to fly puts them ever out of its earthbound reach. Ignoring the next barrage of fire, it turns its attention back towards 9S and 2B. Its stout front leg scuffs the dirt twice, then a low, menacing grunt issues from its snout as the boar launches into its deadly charge.

There is a good sixty metres it must cover before reaching them, though this distance is rapidly decreasing. 2B tenses and raises Virtuous Contract, her intention to reenter the fray plain. But 9S snatches her wrist, forestalling any recklessness on her part.

“Don’t be _insane_!” he exclaims. “We can’t fight this thing! It’s too strong and you’re hurt!”

Her teeth are bared in a rictus of frustration. “What do you suggest then?”

Frantic, 9S scans the surrounding area for any potential hiding spot. There are several trees they could climb, but 2B’s injured leg would make that a difficult, if not impossible feat. Then his eyes catch on a large vertical crack in the cliff-face. Judging by the external dimensions, it would be large enough to fit both of them inside, while keeping the boar out.

He jabs an index finger in its direction. “That crevice over there!” 

Giving 2B no chance to reply, 9S shifts his grip to her hand and half-guides, half-drags her along. She yields to his lead, putting up as little resistance as her limp would allow, but his muscles strain against her greater weight. It is barely in the nick of time that they manage to squeeze into the crevice, 2B stumbling in after him. A split second later, the boar comes barreling into the cliff-face. The enormity of the impact causes the walls to shudder, and dust and pebbles rain down onto them from above. 

“Holy shit!”

Seizing 2B around the middle, 9S yanks her further inside, retreating as far back as possible into the cramped space. This puts them beyond the range of the boar’s furiously scrabbling hooves, which have been shoved into the entrance. Since it cannot fit its massive head inside, the boar has decided to rake at them instead. A squeal of outrage soon accompanies its efforts. Try as it might, the boar cannot reach in far enough.

Nevertheless, 9S clutches 2B tighter, determined to keep her out of harm’s way. It occurs to him that were it not for the direness of the situation, he would be holding her in a lover’s embrace. 2B doesn’t seem to mind, though. There is no reluctance in the way she leans forward, resting her chin on his shoulder. When her arms close around his back – thus completing the embrace – 9S feels his black box skip a beat in its frenetic, fear-filled rhythm.

Why is it only when they’re inches from being mauled by an oversized pig that he gets to be held by her like this?

After a minute or so of fruitless pawing, the boar withdraws its leg. In the brief, suspended moment that ensues, 9S goes still, praying to the nonexistent gods that the boar has given up. But his hopes are dashed as his auditory sensors jolt with the rumbling cacophony of displaced rock. The stink of the boar’s breath fills the confined air, and 9S realises that it is now chiselling away at the entrance with its tusks.

“Shit, it’s trying to dig in!”

Time seems to stretch on to infinity as the boar gouges into the cliff-face, rattling the tiny chamber and scattering rocky debris everywhere. With each terrifying, heart-pounding second that passes, 9S becomes more and more convinced that he and 2B would die. Either they would suffocate or be pulverised when the crevice collapses on them, otherwise the boar would gore them in its blunt-toothed vengeance when it finally manages to dig them out. But whichever way they perish, 9S would be in 2B’s arms – the arms of the one he loves.

Somehow that doesn’t sound so bad.

It seems luck is on their side today, however. The rock proves sturdier and more resilient than expected, outlasting the boar’s patience. Eventually, its digging movements slow down before stopping altogether. Then it lets out a snort and steps away, taking its malodorous breath with it (to 9S’s everlasting relief). The thump of its heavy footfalls grow quieter, fading into the distance. As 9S looks out through the crevice’s narrow opening, he finds that the boar is no longer visible. Perhaps it had ventured outside his limited scope of view?

Slumping against the wall – which detaches his and 2B’s chins from their respective shoulders – 9S sucks in the liberated air. Then he lets it all out in one long, shuddering exhalation.

“Do you think it’s given up?” he asks quietly.

“Maybe,” 2B replies, matching his hushed tone. “We should wait a few minutes to be sure, though.”

“Alright.”

Setting an internal timer to two hundred seconds, 9S starts the countdown. Since he no longer has an excuse to continue holding her, he unwraps his arms from around 2B’s waist, letting them fall reluctantly to his sides. She doesn’t remove hers from his, though. 

Well, this puts him in quite the awkward position, doesn’t it?

He considers enfolding her in his arms once more, then discards the idea. Then reconsiders and discards the idea again. 2B must have sensed his dilemma, for she relieves him of it by reaching down to grasp his hands, relocating them to her waist. Then her arms loop around his lower back and pull him closer, making it unequivocally clear that she wants to remain in their embrace.

This also has the effect of pressing her flush against him.

Being in such wonderful, _terrible_ proximity to 2B wreaks havoc on 9S’s processors. Her scent fills his olfactory sensors: overturned earth and whetted steel and a heady, crisp something that is uniquely 2B. Heat simmers between their bodies, unhindered even by layers of separating fabric. Swelling against his chest every time she draws breath, her breasts are a mesmerising duality of softness and firmness. Most tantalising of all, his pelvis is now slotted between her thighs, which impresses upon him the fact that he’s _male_ and she’s _female_ and _here_ is where they’re meant to fit together—

Blood rushes southward in a spell that leaves 9S light-headed, then back up to paint a mortified blush across his cheeks. Thanks to the confined space, he cannot retreat, which means there’s no way 2B can’t feel the burgeoning evidence of his turmoil. Their full-body contact also means that she’d be able to feel the giveaway thump of his black box. (Having decelerated in the wake of the boar’s departure, it has sped up to an alarming pace again.) 

Not for the first time, 9S curses his body’s likeness to that after which he is modelled: a pubescent human boy. Why must it choose now of all occasions to manifest these... _incriminating reactions_? Betrayed thus, 9S can do little but hope that 2B wouldn’t call attention to them.

She doesn’t, which somehow makes matters _worse_.

Is 2B truly that oblivious? Does she fail to realise how compromising their situation is? Can she not see the effect her nearness has on him? That she stokes within him the flames of these wicked, forbidden, _unfulfillable_ desires?

( _Emotions are prohibited_ —)

His fingers clench and unclench at her waist. Without any means of escape, 9S is forced to wait. Pushing 2B aside is _not_ an option; he doesn’t want to give the false impression that he might be rejecting her. Not after they’ve come this far together. Besides, the countdown will finish in another hundred seconds. Surely he can hold out that long? 

If only each second that ticks by isn’t more _torturous_ than the last—

“We should go,” 9S blurts out mere moments later, unable to stand it anymore. The strangled, high-pitched quality of his voice is almost unrecognisable. “The boar’s probably gone by now, right?” 

“I doubt it. It’s only been a hundred and thirty-seven seconds,” 2B replies, calm and rational as ever. So she’s started her own timer too? “Is it worth taking the risk so soon? There’s a chance that it may still be waiting outside.” 

He shakes his head. “But your leg! And the rest of you! You took a really hard hit back there; you need medical attention straighta—”

“I’m _fine_ ,” she interrupts, her tone a little sharper. “It’s not _that_ urgent.”

9S raises an incredulous eyebrow – not that 2B would be able to see it under his visor. “Aren’t you in pain?”

“Somewhat.” Her answer is empty of inflection, as though she is simply stating a fact. “As a combat unit, I’m configured so that my pain feedback caps at a certain threshold. This means I wouldn’t be debilitated after sustaining a major injury.”

Taken aback by her recitation of android physiology – something in which _he_ is the more knowledgeable one – 9S swallows. “O-Of course.”

“But you’ve already worked that out, haven’t you, Nines?” she points out, a knowing lilt to her words.

Yes, he has. “It, uh, s-slipped my mind.”

His lie doesn’t manage to convince 2B, who angles her face away from his. “Are you uncomfortable, being so close to me?” There is a small but noticeable waver to her voice.

It is in this moment that the countdown finishes, bringing up a beeping notification in 9S’s HUD. This does nothing to improve his sudden speech impediment. “I—I, uh…”

“If it’s bothering you so much—” She starts to untangle herself from him, but he flattens her elbows with his own, preventing her retreat.

“ _No_!” The denial comes out with more vehemence than he intends. Gulping down a steadying breath, he tries again, “No, it—it isn’t bothering me at all. N-Not like that. I like being close to you.” 

A sigh escapes her, and she turns her head back towards him. The corners of her mouth curl in a melancholic, not-quite smile. “I’m glad to hear that.”

It rears up inside him, the overpowering urge to reassure her – to _expel_ the truth that he wants to stay in her arms forever. But still his vocal processors refuse to work. “It’s uh, actually… really, really nice.” 

To his alarm – did he say something wrong? – 2B unhooks an arm from around his waist. Then said alarm is smothered in the next instant as her hand rises to cup his cheek. “ _Nice_ , hmm?” 

“Yeah, r-really nice.” Were he not so preoccupied with leaning into her caress, 9S would be mocking himself for such _impressive_ use of his vocabulary.

But any potential for further self-castigation is chased away as 2B leans in, bringing their faces close. _Much too close_. “Do you wonder, Nines, what might feel nicer?” 

His gaze scatters futilely across the inscrutable shield of her visor. “2B, w-what are you s-saying?”

2B does not reply. For a tense, protracted second, there is only the hot puff of their intermingling breaths. Then, before he can process what is taking place, her lips descend upon his.

Unprepared for the contact, 9S freezes, his eyes snapping wide. The point where their lips meet is a tumult of sensation, one that wipes his mind blank of thought and overloads every circuit. However many times he may have wished and fantasised and even run simulations of it, nothing can compare to the reality that is _2B kissing him_.

Indeed, there are no words that can adequately describe the experience.

This isn’t anything so chaste as a peck, nor does it resemble the seamless, choreographed acts that 9S comes across so often in Old World materials of human courtship behaviour. There is no perfect alignment of mouths, no delicate nibbling of lips, no talented tangle of tongues. Rather, their kiss is rough, clumsy, filled with far more feeling than finesse. Their noses collide as 2B presses her mouth harder against his, and 9S, shaken out of his shock and disbelief, finds himself only too eager to receive her.

But whatever preconceptions of gentle exploring that he might have harboured are thrown out the figurative window. 2B’s lips move over his in heated and insistent patterns, especially when she parts them to lavish open-mouthed kisses upon him. Complementing this forcefulness is her right hand, which migrates from his cheek to the back of his head. Strong fingers knot into his hair, tugging him forward and anchoring him in place. It’s as though something ravenous and uncontrollable has taken hold, urging her to devour him like there’s no tomorrow.

The realisation that 2B could want him in such a way frightens and excites 9S at the same time. His black box is pulsing at so quick and feverish a pace that he fears he would combust, and the tightness in his shorts has passed the point of incriminating to outright discomfort, now. (Something _not_ helped by the friction between their entangled, shifting bodies.)

Frantic for a distraction, 9S decides to give reciprocating a try. But he misjudges the distance between their mouths, and ends up knocking their teeth together. There is a moment of jarring _weirdness_ , which coalesces some of his scattered wits – along with no small amount of mortification. Were it not for 2B’s vice-like grip, he would pull away to stammer an apology. But 2B dismisses his mistake as though it were nothing, resuming her assault on his mouth. 

Although her technique is scarcely more refined than his, it serves to highlight the disparity between their relative experience (of which his is _none_ ). This causes a twinge of something spiky and uneasy to steal through him. It’s obvious 2B has kissed before – but _who_? Her previous partner? – and 9S doesn’t like that. He doesn’t relish the thought of her lining him up against this unknown competitor and finding _him_ lacking. (Or worse yet, _disappointing_.)

However, these insecurities are quick to dissolve in the assurance of 2B’s increasingly bold actions. 9S shivers as her tongue traces the outline of his lips, then inhales sharply when she takes this as permission to slide the hot, slippery organ inside. He’d never known the interiors of his mouth to be so sensitive, and the feeling of her moving _within_ him is foreign yet incredibly erotic at the same time. His circuits cascade-fire as her tongue sweeps across his palate and entwines itself with his, sending jolt after jolt down his spine straight to his groin. 

The pressure there has now grown so intense as to be _blinding_. Desperate for relief, 9S pulls 2B closer, wedging his hips more firmly between her thighs. She responds by grinding slow and hard against him, and the ensuing surge of pleasure tears a cry from him that is immediately swallowed into her mouth. This encourages her to repeat the motion with more vigour, causing 9S to throw his head back with a higher-pitched mewl as his entire body breaks out in tremors. Then he is lost to a haze of fiery sensation, one ignited and reignited by 2B’s relentless touch.

The world around him sublimates until the only thing he knows is _2B_ , her and the electrifying rush of every lick and stroke and thrust that she bestows upon him. His few thought processes are obliterated, stripping away all awareness of what he might be doing. Maybe he is clutching onto her for dear life, or writhing desperately against her, or letting out noises that are not at all appropriate in public. But he doesn’t care. All he wants is for this to never end, for her to continue ravishing him, building up the fire within that burns ever _hotter_ and _faster_ and _brighter_ —

But 2B stops all of a sudden, as though suspended mid-action. A moment later she withdraws, breaking their intimate contact. Unhappily reintroduced to reality by the loss, 9S cannot help but whimper in protest. Then he is wrenched out of his lust-ridden stupor altogether as the familiar monotone of Pod 042 fills the air:

“As units 2B and 9S were too busily engaged with each other to respond, this unit has thrown a pebble to catch their attention.”

So _that’s_ why 2B had gone stiff; she’d been struck by said pebble. Turning towards the entrance, 9S spots the culprit hovering unrepentantly outside, accompanied by Pod 153. Given their inflexible frames, the Pods wouldn’t be able to enter the crevice without scratching themselves all over the rock. Perhaps they might’ve employed a less abrupt method of intervention otherwise, like a tap on the shoulder.

So or 9S believes. He is still in the process of recovering his mental faculties.

Pod 153 takes this opportunity to pipe up, “Report: This unit and Pod 042 have observed the white boar after its departure from the present location. Accounting for geographical obstacles, it has travelled an approximate distance of three-hundred-and-twenty-five metres south-east. Analysis: The white boar is no longer a threat to units 2B and 9S.”

It turns towards Pod 042, who launches into its own speech, “Warning: Unit 2B has sustained moderate impact damage to her left shoulder, hip and knee. Proposal: Unit 2B should refrain from vigorous physical activity to prevent aggravation of these injuries, and report back to the Resistance camp for repairs and maintenance.”

A stilted silence follows, broken only by 2B’s and 9S’s still-rapid breathing. 2B is staring at the Pods, her expression indecipherable. Though her hand remains around 9S’s waist – and his around hers – she has put a little distance between them, holding him at arm’s length. 9S can still feel the warmth emanating from her body. But whatever semblance of nearness they have is just that: _a semblance_. 2B may as well be standing a million miles away.

As for 9S himself, he is caught in a maelstrom of emotion, one that yanks him in several opposing directions all at once.

His concern has returned full force, coupled with not-insubstantial doses of guilt and self-recrimination. How much more careless of a partner can he be, dismissing 2B’s injuries just because she’d seen fit to do so herself? As both he and the sanguine-but-observant Operator 6O would attest, 2B has a bad habit of downplaying her problems. Really, he should’ve been _far_ more leery of it on this occasion. Such negligence is inexcusable. _Unforgivable_.

But desire had overridden sense, and 9S has yet to untangle himself from its snare. Even now he wants 2B. He wants her so badly that it _hurts_. Every fibre of his mechanical being is still crying out for more, making loud and clear the severity of his deprivation. What he would give to resume their passionate embrace, melding their mouths and bodies together again. Or better yet, to take things further: stripping down as to leave nothing between them, sliding his naked skin against hers, _becoming one_ with her—

He wants and wants and _wants_ —

Yet this desire comes with its own stumbling block. Always a niggling thought lurks, carved inerasably into the back of his mind. It pervades every moment of intimacy, discolours every subsequent feeling of bliss.

Because it reminds him that perhaps none of this is _real_.

That’s why 9S is always so careful – so _restrained_ – around 2B. If he knows for certain that she returns his feelings, he would give himself to her wholly and without reservation – YoRHa’s ban on intimate relationships be damned! But does she genuinely want him? Or are her flirtations merely an effect of her good mood, the happy extreme of the bipolar nightmare in which she is so often immersed? 

9S doesn’t know. He _cannot_ know until he uncovers the whole truth, whether that is for the better or the worse.

Ignoring the poignant ache in his black box – and places further down – 9S lowers his hands from 2B’s waist. This prompts her to turn back towards him, head tilted in a silent question. 

“2B, I um,” he begins, processors racing as he tries to think of the best way to proceed, “I agree with Pod. Maybe... we shouldn’t have done that.

“Not that I don’t _want_ to!” he adds hastily, gesticulating for emphasis. _Because I want_ you _more than anything else in this world._ “But uh— _priorities_ , y’know? You oughta get yourself fixed up first.”

Her gaze is inscrutable upon his. “Of course.”

9S hangs his head. “Sorry, 2B.” And he really _is_ sorry.

“There’s no need to apologise.” 2B’s voice has assumed its characteristic stoicism, which indicates her switch back to her more level-headed self. “You’re right, and so are the Pods. Let’s go.”

Mindful of 2B’s injuries, they extricate themselves from the crevice with rather more care than they had entered. Once outside, 9S makes a quick visual sweep of the area. After confirming that the coast is clear – and that there is _no_ white boar within range – he offers his shoulder to 2B for support. She accepts, slinging her right arm around him. (Though the height disadvantage has often been a point of grievance for him, 9S is grateful for its usefulness here.)

As one, they hobble back to the Resistance camp.


End file.
